Evening Ladies and Gents,
Below you'll find the beginning of a new Western story, I'm hoping to make into a regular montly web entry. Let me know what you think.
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Characters and location are fictional, copyright Brad DeMaagd @2009
Brennigan’s Boy
1871 – The Old West
Eastern Oregon – Town of Creekbend
His boots scuffled as he walked up the steps, his legs were sore and he stopped once at the plank sidewalk to stretch his body. His gray pants and red shirt had acquired a healthy brown dust from the journey in. He looked back over at his horse, tied to the rail, it bobbed its black head drinking from the troth nearby, a streak of brown lay over its right eye.
The man orders, “Stay there, Jeb.”
The man turned back to a bar whose name was scripted onto the window of the bar, Brennigan’s. He took off the drooping hat, giving it a smack on his pants and running a hand through his hair. He paused and touched the beard that had begun to fill on this trip. He’d want a shave soon.
Pushing through the swinging doors, Cort Lee Anderson entered a sight he’d seen many times already on his trip. Rounded tables with chairs, one in the far northwest corner played host to 4 old timers, working on winning each others drinking money. Couple younger men sat facing the door at another table. Their table was situated just out of line with the east facing window. This same window gave a view towards the road that led into town.
Across from this window was situated the bar – bottles lined the walls. Behind the bar, a tall man, bald headed, but sporting a neatly kept reddish-brown beard. He wore a white shirt, brown vest, an apron around his waist, covering his brown pants from view. His arms showed a previous life of hard labor. Cort wondered if he’d come with the trains.
The bartender was talking to a single barmaid. Her naturally tan skin made her stand out from every other sun burnt body in this place. Coal black hair was tied into a pony tail , that fell just below her shoulders. She wore a forest green dress, that purposefully hugged her assets. Cort for a moment, became a brief celebrity as all eyes swiveled toward him. The moment passed as they all returned to their duties, the waitress wandered around the north end of the bar, toward the kitchen. The bartender turned toward him a smile.
“Evenin’ lad. My name is Brennigan. What can I get you?”
“Shot of whiskey, “ Cort slid onto a stool, and tried not to sigh in relief. Beat a saddle’s daily abuse. Cort stopped the bartender with a reach of his hand, “And a water.”
The bartender gave a grin and headed to get the glasses, casting an eye over at his other customers. All too interested in other things, his eyes linked on the youngsters on the table , one of them always had their eyes on the front entry.
Cort dug out his pouch, pulling out coins and crumbled dollar bills. The bartender put down his drinks, but didn’t let them go as he saw the money.
“Son, we can’t take that money here,” The bartender lowered his voice , so as not to carry to the other customers. “Do ye have anything else?”
Cort paused and started to pick through his money. “Sorry, forgot I had it… I’ll …”
Brennigan, left the water, but pulled back the whiskey. “That’s on me lad. You keep looking.”
Brennigan set the drink under the counter and looked right as his doors swung inward, and he skipped his greeting. Instead, he reached for the gun he kept under the counter. Loaded and familiar, his Kerr revolver was all he’d kept after it ended.
Under his breath, Brennigan, the bartender muttered, “Damn that boy.”
Walking into the bar came the mustached figure of Hyde Rickett. Hyde’s dark grey eyes flashed from the newcomer, to Brennigan, to the old men, at the table, and to the two youngsters next. Rickett wore a black suit, red vest. The two youngsters appeared ready to get to their feet. Brennigan grumbled, “Aw hell.”
Now, standing the young men could be easier seen as brothers their age difference was minimal. Short blonde hair, it had been bleached by the sun, their sun worn skin marked them as outdoorsmen on some level. Blue button down shirts and jeans completed the out fit of the brother on the left, closest to the bar. The brother on the right wore jeans as well, but wore a white shirt. Neither men had their hats on , both were resting over the back of their chairs.
The kitchen door burst open as a young lad maybe 16 came running in, his shirt was untucked, which he vigorously tried to tuck back in. Lipstick was on his neck as he came in looking for Brennigan.
“Mr. Brennigan it’s --- Unnh!!”
Johnny Creek’s next works, “Hyde coming down the road.” died as the brother in blue had drawn his gun and fired at the boy thinking it was a trap. The boy crumbled as a smoking hole lay in the middle of his chest, blood dying the untucked shirt. Brennigan let out a curse as he went to grab the boy.
By now, guns were drawn, as Brennigan yelled at Louisa to go get the Dr and the Sheriff. The two youngsters were stepping away from their chairs, guns out. The fired gun still smoking from the shot. Hyde Rickett had his two colts trained on them.
Cort let his right hand slide towards his own pistol, waiting. He’d turned slightly on his stool to face the showdown. It had been his father’s gun in the war. It was the cleanest thing on him.
Rickett grinned at the two boys holding their guns at him, the left brother's gun shook just slightly. Rickett barely cared that Brennigan was yelling at him to take it outside ; that damned fool had his hands full trying to save a dead boy. Not even Doc. Weatherspoon could save him. Rickett had more important business.
“Alright boys, we got business to square away. You got my friend locked up and I aim to set him free. Now you drop them charges and you get to walk out of here,” Rickett walked toward the pair. Just putting Cort out of his view.
“Ain’t happening Rickett, Lucas stole our horses , we caught him and he’s going to hang for it.”
“Wrong answer Tom.”
Rickett’s gun barked first and took Tom in the neck, the boy’s shot went wide left taking out a piece of the wall as he fell holding his neck. Tom dropped his own gun, his blood dying his white shirt as he fell to his knees.
Michael shot, but Rickett had already stepped into the shot. Mike’s bullet hitting the wall, parallel to his brother, Cort pistol whipped Michael before he could aim again driving the boy back off his feet and his gun slipped out his right hand.
Rickett stood over the boy, “Drop them charges Michael and you might get to save your brother.”
“Up yours, Rickett!’ Micheal spat back.
“Damn, shame.” Rickett cocked his pistol. A shot rang out , and the gun aimed at Michael’s head flew from Rickett’s hand, spinning into the spittoon near the card table.
Rickett turns looking to Brennigan, but finds the bartender looking over at Cort. Cort is still seated, but his gun pointed in Rickett’s direction.
“Who the ---“
Cort cocks his gun , as Louisa comes in the with Doctor Weatherton. The Doctor takes one look at the boy, shakes his head, and starts to head toward Tom, but Rickett keeps other his gun on Michael.
“This ain’t your business stranger, now I’ll let you walk out and you just let me finish my business here.”
Michael looking at both men, “Please my brother.” Tom is gasping for air as blood both slips from his throat and slides into is lungs. Brennigan is going for his own gun as the Dr. is waiting.
Rickett cocks his gun at Michael, “You gonna have both these boys on your conscious , stranger. You want that?”
Cort fires, hits Rickett in the forehead, and kills him.
Rickett falls to his right side, dead. Michael and the Dr. run over to Tom. Brennigan is on his feet, looking at Cort. Louisa is hovering in the doorway of the kitchen, taking it all in. Death is something she’s seen before.
Cort slides his gun back into his holster, eyes on the old men at the cart table. One of them with a heard down to his collar, gives Cort a nod and turns back to his cards.
A glass clinks next to his left arm. Cort sees Brennigan placing his whiskey next to his water. Brennigan flashes him a wink as his attention goes back to the bodies on his floor.
Louisa from the doorway says, “Sheriff’s rode out this morning, some trouble at Keller ranch. “
Brennigan has picked up the boy and is going to bring him to the Dr’s office for now. Tom and the Doctor have Michael.
Brennigan grumbles, “The dead aren’t walking away. They’ll be waiting for him. Watch the bar Louisa.”
Louisa nods, her eyes drifting over to Cort, Brennigan as he’s leaving adds, “Set him up with a tab for now.”
Few minutes later, the four card players get up, and the drag out Rickett’s body by the feet. His head smacks as it goes down the steps.
Louisa and Cort are alone. Cort is his 2nd water. Louisa leaning on her right arm, she’s just off of Cort’s left shoulder.
“Why’d you get involved? It wasn’t your business.” Louisa is making a coin dance on her her left knuckles. It’s a confederate coin of Cort’s. He’d left his pouch on the table by his drinks.
“ 'Cos that man was a liar.” Cort remarked. His right hand flips another coin toward Louisa’s left hand where she makes two coins walk along her knuckles.
Louisa raises her eyebrows, wanting more information.
Cort looks up a Louisa, who is caught by his green eyes for a moment. They are hard as an emerald , chiseled from war and death.
“He talked too much. Like a magician, he keeps you listening, not watching his hands.”
Louisa gasps as Cort has snatched the two coins off her dancing knuckles. They sit now in his right palm.
“He was pulling the trigger, long before that Tom guy said no.”
Louisa slides the whiskey bottle over, “Want another?”
The end
AN ENDING HAS A START
10 years ago
